The Trouble With Christmas

The workplace could be the busiest corner of my life. It eats up 90 percent of my day. And on Christmas time, it steals me away from home 7 days in most weeks of December. And to think the company's compensation does not reciprocate what most teachers put in especially in days like these days.

But of course, as they say, charge whatever extra work you put in as service to the institution (for feeding your family on a regular basis,perhaps?). Lately, the school's family day celebration has become a typhoon. It has unleashed the gnarls and horns of people around the work place. True to what is expected, stress gave me the perfect opportunity to see through the people around. This is the right time to figure out the real ones from the "not so real" ones; the prize friends from the "good as acquaintance" only. Little by little things are beginning to sink in as they should so I would know how to react to things. And moments like this reminds me of the usual mantra that things like growing up is not limited to young people. That such is a universal must even to educators who essentially is no different compared to my 3-year-old in terms of laying down their demands as though the world's attention only evolves around them. Ironically.

 I have found symptoms like this many times from leaders who are advanced in age or people who are in positions, people who are slave drivers, and those who could not find satisfaction and peace to what the imperfect world could afford to offer them. Thus, what I discover from people in these busy times should not surprise me like how it does to me now. But I still get the same jolt every time people with these symptoms throw their weight around others. In the height of my frustration, I often call them the grown-up "brats." I am aware though, that I become the most disliked when I, being the quiet one, the uninvolved one, the distant one, stubbornly refused to be touched in my holy hours like Sundays, evenings, and the hours after work. On one hand, there are young colleagues who still need to review their ethics on "respect" on people's time, belongings, and individuality. They just run in to you, crash in on your kindness whenever it suits their fancy forgetting any one could actually break loose, screw niceties and pleasantries, and explode.

 I hate it when I find myself in the brink of losing my handle because these people are used to me being timid and unobtrusive. They would take it as misbehavior dismissing their misbehavior as plain usual culture. Well, as they say, sand papers are blessings in disguise because they trim the edges of our person and make us better eventually. I agree. Completely. But at times, jostling with these people in this hopeless mix takes some grit in my part. Sometimes it feels like I need to show them some heft, some roughness that would equal the bruises they usually cause people. Maybe. When the right time comes.

And when it does, it's grinding time!